


Rough Edges

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Facial Hair, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, POV Stiles, Post season 3a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 22:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek comes home from pack business to a surprise and Stiles is kinda the worst boyfriend ever. Shut up, he's totally the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Edges

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to my dear friend Annie who's away having fun in Ireland. You're the best :)
> 
> This is my first (or second, I guess?) attempt at fanfiction. It's also unbeta-ed, so constructive criticism is most definitely welcome.

Stiles was a little jittery and anxious. Okay, Stiles was a lot jittery. This is the first time Derek’s ever been away on pack business since they’ve been together, and he’s due back any time now. All in all, Stiles thinks he’s handled the past two and a half tragic Derek-less weeks rather well until now, thank you very much.

He’s only managed to really bug Scott enough to piss him off twice, and Lydia once. He felt kinda bad about that, because even though it’s been five years, they still don’t talk about Jackson staying permanently across the pond.

He was grateful to Scott for having more brotime, but he really can’t be blamed for mentioning Derek sometimes. A lot of times. Whatever. As far as Stiles is concerned, Scott owes him for playing messenger for he and Allison in highschool, and for listening to him whine when Amy went to Italy with her parents during Christmas break freshman year of college. Scott owes him big time.

And it’s not like Derek was out of the time zone, much less an entire continent away. He was only in the northern border of Oregon, visiting Cora and making the pact between Scott’s pack and theirs official. Stiles dealt with it. But he was allowed to be a little mopey without his boyfriend.

Plus, he was betrayed. Derek didn’t even have the decency to take a plane, and Stiles still felt rather cheated. The extra money would have been worth it for the cheesy (and embarrassing for Derek) reunion scene where Stiles would run and jump into Derek’s arms, legs around his waist, and sloppy makeouts for all the sleep deprived travelers to see. It would have been _epic_.

But if Derek thinks Stiles wouldn’t have a few cards up his sleeve, he is so wrong. Stiles sort of can’t wait for him to get home.

Just as he paces during a commercial, he hears the lock slide in place, and stands a few feet away from the door.

The little half smile on Derek’s face slides off and he drops his duffle bag in shock.

“No.”

“Oh, come on!” Stiles exclaims, raising his arms at his side in indignation.

“Stiles,” Derek huffs as he picks up his bag and shoulders pass Stiles without even so much as a hello kiss, which _rude_ , “You look like a predator.”

“Yeah, well so do you once a month and you don’t hear me complaining.”

Derek doesn’t even dignify that with a response, just keeps walking past the living room and into their bedroom to start unpacking, but Stiles just knows that he rolled his eyes.

He doesn’t hesitate to follow, launching himself over the back of the couch and accidentally knocking off a wayward throw pillow.

He rubs a hand across his face, and tries not to grimace. He’s not oblivious, okay? He knows his facial hair looks gross and the perma stubble he attempted to grow out is patchy and really more mustache than anything else. But there’s nothing Stiles loves more than winding Derek up. Well, except for winding Derek up _sexually_.

“I have plans, Derek. Plans that involve a very manly beard that shall put all other beards to shame. I think it might even have a red tinge to it. Must be me Irish side poppin; through a wee bit.”

Stiles has no such plans, but he’s been around werewolves enough to know how to properly pull off a bluff. A bluff about wanting to keep some seriously bad stubble just to push Derek’s buttons. He never claimed to be mature.

Derek pauses with a balled up shirt in his hand to glare balefully at Stiles. “You’re Polish.”

“Whatever, same thing,” Stiles dismisses with a hand. He sidles up to Derek and messes with the zipper of the duffle bag. “Miss me?”

And there it is. That sly smirk he’s been daydreaming about kissing away since Derek pulled out the parking lot in the camaro. It’s a different smirk than what Old Derek used to have. Less mean-spirited and more _I’m going to seduce your pants to floor in the very near future_. Stiles likes this one more.  

“A little,” he says, dropping the clothes in favor of dragging Stiles closer by the hips.

“Just a little?” Stiles asks. He presses his forehead to Derek as he loops his arms around Derek’s neck.

“Hmm,” he murmers, “maybe a bit more.”

And finally, finally, their lips meet and the loneliness of the last half month surges through them both. The kiss tastes like home and relief. Derek’s presence settles something inside him that Stiles didn’t realize he was missing. He possibly whimpers when Derek pulls back, but he pleads the fifth.

“Here,” Derek says, shoving his toiletry kit into Stiles’ chest when he tries to press back. “Shave off that peach fuzz that took you nearly three weeks to grow, so we can continue. Because I can’t. I can’t handle it, Stiles, you look ridiculous.”

Stiles frowns at the offending ziplock bag holding Derek’s toothbrush, razor, and shaving cream. There’s toothpaste crust on the inside and tries not to bemoan his boyfriend’s terrible hygiene habits.

“Fine.”

He stomps his way over to the adjoining bathroom, but couldn’t resist a parting shot over his shoulder. “I take comfort in knowing I can literally shave off my imperfections, but you, honeybunch, will always have the most adorable peanut ears.”

And they really were adorable, along with his bunny teeth, but Stiles has yet to mention those. He values his sex too much, and he wouldn’t put it past Derek to hold out on him purely out of principle.

The responding ball of socks to the back of his head didn’t even hurt, and does nothing to quell the happy warmth currently flooding through him. There is going to be so much sex tonight.


End file.
